"But--but, Gladys!" says Marjorie, holdin' her off for another inspection. "How you have--er--grown up! Why, your mother never told me a word!" "Oh, Mummah!" says she, indicatin' deep scorn. "Besides, she hasn't seen me for nearly two days, and--well, I suppose she will fuss, as usual, about the way I'm dressed. But I've had a perfectly glorious visit, and coming up in the car with dear Torchy was such sport. Wasn't it, now?" With which she turns to me. "Was it?" says I, and I notices both Vee and Marjorie gazin' at me int'rested. "Of course," says Gladys, prattlin' on, "we quarreled all the way up; but it was all his fault, and he--oh, phsaw! Here come my dear parents." Takin' Gladys as a sample, you'd never guessed it; for Mother is a quiet, modest appearin' little party, with her wavy brown hair parted in the middle and brushed back low. She's wearin' her own complexion too, and, while she's dressed more or less neat and stylish, she don't sport ear danglers, or anything like that. With Father in the background she comes sailin' up smilin', and it ain't until she gets a peek under the mush-bowl lid that her expression changes. "Why, Gladys!" she gasps. "Now, Mummah!" protests Gladys peevish. "For goodness sake don't begin--anyway, not here!" "But--but, my dear!" goes on Mother, starin' at her shocked. "That--that hat! And your hair! And--and your face!" "Oh, bother!" says Gladys, stampin' her high-heeled pump. "You'd like to have me dress like Cousin Tilly, I suppose?" "But you know I asked you not to--to have that done to your hair again," says Mother. "And I said I would, so there!" says Gladys emphatic. Mother sighs and turns to Father, who is makin' his inspection with a weary look on his face. He's just an average, stout-built, good-natured lookin' duck, Father is, a little bald in front, and just now he's rubbin' the bald spot sort of aimless. "You see, Arthur," says Mother. "Can't you do something?" First Father scowls, and then he flushes up. "Why--er--ah--oh, blast it all, Sallie, don't put it up to me!" says he. Then he pulls out a long black cigar, bites the end off savage, and beats it around the corner. That was a brilliant move of his; for Mother turns out to be one of the weepy kind, and in a minute more she's slumped into a chair and is sobbin' away. She's sure she don't know why Gladys should do such things. Hadn't she forbid her to use so much rouge and powder? Hadn't she asked her not to wear those hideous ear jewels? And so on and so on, with Gladys standin' back poutin' defiant. But, say, when they get too big to spank, what else can Father and Mother do? Fin'lly Vee seems to have an idea. She whispers it into Marjorie's ear, slips into the house, and comes back with a hand mirror and a damp washcloth, which she proceeds to offer to Gladys, suggestin' that she use it.